


Playing Games

by inquisitorsmabari



Series: Inquisitor Amelie Trevelyan [9]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 05:20:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11350713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitorsmabari/pseuds/inquisitorsmabari
Summary: Set a number of years after Trespasser, in a world where everything is great and no one is threatened by world ending events (yet), the Inquisitor takes a break from work and takes in the beauty of Skyhold's gardens, where Dorian and Cullen are apparently playing a game of chess whilst Cullen is supposed to be on babysitting duty for the day. Children and chess games are never a good mix, from the player's perspective at least.





	Playing Games

“We’ve been at this for hours, Leliana,” the Inquisitor said with a sigh, her fingers finding their way through the pulled back red hair to rub at her scalp. It was true, they had been at it for house. The candles, freshly placed in their stands upon their arrival in the war room, were all but burnt out; the tall, elegant, strands of wax replaced by stumps which gave off an orange light which resembled a poor imitation of their former glory. 

“I know,” Leliana responded, impatience beginning to underline her speech. “But it is imperative that we find these people before they can cause anymore problems.”

“But we’re getting nowhere!” She cried, rising to her feet to scour her eyes over the war table once more, hoping to find some inspiration amongst the myriad of lines and shapes and tiny figures which were meant to represent her armies scattered all over the map which, she had learnt, were a potential choking hazard when a two year old was in the room. What did they call those things again?-

“Inquisitor!?” Leliana snapped, pulling the Inquisitor out of her daze.

“Yes?”

“Are you paying attention?”

“No, sorry” She said, pulling herself away from the war table. “I can’t do this now, Leliana.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, her tone fierce and her eyes fixated on the Inquisitor, questioning, scrutinising. 

“We’ll pick it up tomorrow” She replied, walking towards the large, wooden door at the end of the room.

“Inquisitor?” She heard from behind her. “Where are you going?”

She stopped in her tracks, took a deep breath through her nose, and turned towards her advisor.

“I don’t know,” She said with the ghost of a smile, before turning once more to evacuate the room, leaving her advisor silent, frustrated, and confused, as the flames from the candles began to flutter and whither in the now dark war room.

\------ 

Amélie had started her day with a wake up call; a summons to the war room, delivered as the sun was still in the early stages of its ascent towards its midday peak, its golden light just about making its way over the mountains and filling Skyhold in a murky yellow haze. She had left the warmth of her bed, escaped the clutches of her sleeping husband, and the inevitable cries of an infant which were, for this morning, not her issue to deal with. She had left the tranquility of the dawn to sit in a dark, dilapidated room for hours trying to find a spy they could not find.

And now the sun was setting, and her day was all but gone. The days were never long at Skyhold, but, nonetheless, she was startled to find the garden bathed in gold and filled with a dusky aura. How long had she been in there, trawling through reports and pouring over dusty maps? And it was all for nothing. They’d made no progress.

She slumped down onto a low section of wall, resting the back of her body against a cold stone pillar before reaching up to pull her hair out of its restraints, officially, as she saw it, signing off from her duties for the day. Her hair had gotten long, she was far too busy to remember to trim it even now that her duties paled in comparison to her life before the council, but she found herself not caring, even when strands of red hair fell into her eyes or tickled the top of her back. What was a tangle of red hair in a fragile world?

She came here often to find her peace; there was something about the garden which was almost other worldly. If the Maker’s grace was to be felt anywhere, it would be somewhere like this, she often thought. Inside the keep, people rushed around with papers or messages but here, the world ran in slow motion. Behind her, on the other side of the pillar, two women talked of trivial things amongst the wildflowers. When she looked to her right, she saw a group of people, presumably at prayer, or looking very intently at the plants, who knows? When she looked almost straight ahead of her, her head leaning back on the cold stone pillar, she saw what appeared to be two men playing chess.

And then she smiled, a sense of both disbelief and familiarity overcoming her. Of course, she thought, as she saw Dorian, who had seemingly travelled all the way from Tevinter to play chess, sat opposite what could only be her husband. She watched them from her perch, the concentration on Dorian's face almost comical with that moustache of his becoming increasingly more ridiculous every time she saw him. He spotted her once, his whole body pausing mid move as he locked eyes with her, his face scrunched up in confusion. She responded with a single finger to the lips, which earnt her a smile and a wink from her old friend.

“Inquisitor?” A small voice called out to her, a young woman, a servant, who stood meekly besides her, her face a portrait of concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” She said with a smile. “Everything is fine, thank you.”

She turned to watch the game once again. It looked as if it was coming to some sort of conclusion but, she noticed, something was causing the two men to laugh. Then, she saw a tiny hand reach above her husband's shoulder, clutching at a small object, a chess piece, she guessed, in what looked like a victory pose. She laughed to herself, laughing even harder when the two ended up in what she thought would be an eternal struggle for the chess piece; a battle of wills between father and son, who were both as stubborn as a mule. 

“Wait,” The woman had already began to leave, but she called her back without thinking, almost instinctively. As the woman turned to look at her, she thought about what she needed or, rather, what she wanted. She looked back again at the continuing struggle for the chess piece, before addressing the servant woman once again. “Could you fetch the letters from my mother? I’ve been hoarding them upstairs for some time, there should be about five.”

“Of course.”

And then she left, but not for long. The pile on her desk was obvious, after all, and a little embarrassing, and soon she had in a pile on the floor next to her pech the letters she had forgotten to respond to, or rather, wasn’t sure if she wanted to respond to. She picked up the first, the oldest one, and began to read, before a faint noise made her draw her gaze away from the words in front of her and once again look out towards the tranquility of the garden. What she saw now was even more laughable, her child's stubborn gaze had now turned to her, and now his mission was to climb over Cullen’s shoulder and reach out for her. They shared a smile and an outstretched hand in greeting, before her husband turned his head to meet her gaze. 

She looked back down at her letters, pretending not to hear the debate between the two men over how long she’d been there, how long Dorian had known, whether or not they had been cheating and who really won the game. She looked up only when the sun’s remnants had been blocked from her view, and the two towered over her.

“Why didn’t you say you were here?” Cullen asked her, passing their son into her outstretched arm.

“I was having fun,” She replied, tucking him in between her thighs and returning to her letters. “And I was busy.”

“Oh yea, important Inquisition stuff is it?” Dorian asked with a somewhat mocking tone.

“No, actually,” She replied. “Letters from my mother.”

“Oh,” He responded with a look of slight disgust, and what she thought was concern, before he made his excuses and took his leave, presumably to ascend the tower and return to his favourite spot in the library. 

“Need any help?” Cullen asked her, sitting on the ground next to the wall she occupied, before picking up one of the letters and squinting at it.

“That’s in Orlesian.” She told him, before plucking the letter out of his hands.

“Huh,” He said. “I thought I was losing my sight there.”

“Not yet, love.” She said, as he leaned his head against her thigh, where he stayed until the sun descended below the high walls of the courtyard, and the staff began to light the candles and sconces which littered the now dark garden. The world was a mess, and her job was a constant thorn in her side, but then, when the day was over, and she returned to her family, everything fell into place. She was happy, she had her family, her friends who came to visit her even now, and she had moments like these were the world seemed to stop in its tracks, and where she could find a moment or two of peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I did make some changes from the Tumblr version, mainly replacing Morrigan with someone else because I'm an idiot and I forgot that she leaves after you defeat Corypheus, but I hope you enjoyed reading.


End file.
